


to the beat of the drum

by maureenbrown



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Clubbing, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Newt, Other, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-09 10:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8887942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maureenbrown/pseuds/maureenbrown
Summary: “Min!” Newt calls, holding out the syllables of their boyfriend’s name, their voice distant as it’s several rooms away. When Minho only groans in response, his face pressed snugly in between the couch cushions, Newt demands his full name, their tone urgent.





	

**Author's Note:**

> hope you like it !

“Min!” Newt calls, holding out the syllables of their boyfriend’s name, their voice distant as it’s several rooms away. 

When Minho only groans in response, his face pressed snugly in between the couch cushions, Newt demands his full name, their tone urgent.

Minho reluctantly flops to one side, practically rolling off the couch before catching himself on the carpet with socked feet. It’s a lazy Saturday morning, and they’ve worked hard this entire week. It’s been hell for the both of them, AP finals approaching quickly. There had been many nights spent either on the bed with books and notes surrounding them; impossibly more when one had to wake the other up from where they’d been dozing over a textbook.

“What, sweetheart?” Minho asks, his tone a bit grumpy as he stumbles sleepily through the halls, though Newt doesn’t seem to pay any attention to his attempted halfhearted snarkiness. 

“I… Need your help.” Newt says reluctantly, and Minho rounds the corner, leaning against it and supporting his head with the inside of his arm. 

His partner is facing away from him in the closet—Minho has to resist the urge to make a joke about that—clearly deep in thought as they sift through clothes. 

“With what?” Minho asks, alerting them of his presence before he moves to loop his arms around their waist, nuzzling the back of their shoulder since they’re too tall (“Such a nuisance,” he’d once said, “I can’t even rest my chin on you!”). 

Newt lifts the clothes up that dangle on a hanger in response. One is a sleek black dress, flowy and elegant. The other behind it shift into view, a darker mustard yellow colored skirt. 

“I don’t get it.” Minho mumbles, blinking and leaning against them so they nearly stumble. 

“You were the one that wanted us to go to Gally’s celebration party.” Newt says, turning to glance over at him over their shoulder, one blonde eyebrow arched. 

Minho blinks and then groans at the memory of asking Newt to unwind with him—probably one of the last nights of peace they’ll be able to partially enjoy in their high school career. 

“Yeah, about that… What if we just stayed in to make out until we fall asleep?” He proposes hopefully, earning himself a snort and a light jab to his stomach from Newt’s bony elbow.

“This was your idea. We’re going. I just need to figure out which one to wear.” Newt says, their tone not liable for negotiation, and Minho utters inaudibly but relents, wrapping his arms around their middle tighter. 

“Need my help, then?”

“That’s what I asked, isn’t it?” Newt asks, their tone bordering impatient, their expression still unimpressed.

Minho murmurs a “yeah, yeah,” though he lifts his head long enough to stare at the articles of clothing, eventually nudging the skirt. 

When Newt pauses, Minho buries his face in the crook of their neck. “It’ll be better for grinding.”

Newt turns quickly again, their expression mock horrified, and Minho’s hands trail down to their hips, swiveling his own teasingly against theirs. “You know—“

“God, you’re unbelievable.” Newt says, stepping away and shaking their head, not dignifying him with looking around, though their tone is amused regardless.

Minho gives a sleepy laugh, poking their shoulder as he leans over to peck their cheek. “You’ll look gorgeous regardless.” He assures, trying to make his tone as genuine as possible.

Newt’s expression softens, glancing down at their clothes before hanging the black dress back up on the rack. “You better dress up, too.” They remind, and Minho nods even though they can’t see.

“Trust me. We’ll be the best dressed couple there.”

…

“See, what did I tell you? We’re gorgeous.” Minho comments, and Newt makes a growling noise, pressing one hand on the inside of their thigh as they lean over. Their hand that holds the pencil for eyeliner wavers slightly, and they poke his cheek warningly.

“Could you stop squirming? I’m the only one dressed, and the party hasn’t even started yet. Now sit still so I can do your makeup.” Newt reprimands, and Minho sighs loudly before giving in and looking up at the ceiling. He waits as Newt applies the coat on his waterline, hardly blinking so he doesn’t get scolded more. 

“There, all done. You big baby.” Newt says, nudging his side and attempting to scowl. Minho hardly scoffs, placing his fingertips underneath their chin to guide them forward for a kiss. Their lips move in tandem, unrushed and lazy, Minho slipping his tongue into their mouth briefly and flicking across their lower lip with a hum.

“Min…” Newt warns but doesn’t pull away, placing a hand on his shoulder to stable themself.

“You taste like lip gloss.” Minho replies in response, and Newt draws back with a quiet snort. 

“Go get dressed, loser.” They bring up again, pecking his lips so that he can’t complain. 

…

When they finally arrive, they down a couple drinks as most teenagers do. Minho’s arm remains around Newt’s waist somewhat protectively, sometimes slipping a little lower down their leg than necessary. To their surprise but nobody else’s, they get a massive supply of compliments. Aris, at one point, wanders over to pluck at Newt’s cream sleeveless sweater to ask where they got it.

Halfway through the night, Minho’s hand finds the inside of Newt’s wrist. Their pulse is a bit faster than normal presumably, a bombastic song pumping through the speakers, vibrating through their bodies. 

“Dance with me?” Minho asks, guiding their hand down to his hip. 

Newt’s not that intoxicated, so they pause with their answer. They give him a look before rolling their eyes, tugging him towards the floor. They fit themself in front of Minho, letting his hands trail over the waistband of the skirt as they press back against his hips.

“So much for no grinding, huh?” Minho asks, leaning up so he can speak near Newt’s ear. Their makeup looks a bit smudged, probably from all the humidity surrounding them, and Minho’s thankful for the dim lights so that he doesn’t look like a raccoon.

Newt scoffs almost inaudibly, answering by erasing what little space there is in between their bodies, their back against his chest. They slowly swivel their hips, allowing themself to get lost in the music as Minho runs his fingertips lightly over the corduroy fabric of the skirt. 

They dance the same way they kiss, moving as one unit until Newt turns around in Minho’s arms, their own looping around his neck loosely. Bright strobes dance across their face, illuminating their highlight done by perfected makeup, their eyelashes long and drooping.

“Beautiful.” Minho finds himself murmuring mindlessly, and Newt laughs, the sound low and rumbling, like thunder.

They lean in and kiss him, with everybody watching, Minho clasping their hips around their skirt.

“I’m glad I chose this.” He mumbles finally, only to them, poking their side.

Newt giggles again, the sound lost in the beat of the drums.


End file.
